Dear God, thanks for the fireman, you are hilarious...

It's been a stressful week. Long hours at work and I came down with a cold.  I've been griping about it all week because I have vacation days today and tomorrow, which makes it a 5 day weekend for me.  It is also Will and I's wedding anniversary tomorrow.  With all that said, I have been griping about my luck.  As often happens in my life, I feel like God is somewhere laughing at me.  I don't mean this in a malicious way, I mean, like I think our higher power has a sense of humor.  I think he likes to egg me on.  Today is another shining example.

I'm home. It's my vacation day and I am trying to sleep in. The following are a list of reasons why that is not possible. The horses are pissed they have not been fed at their normal time of 6:15AM, they have been whinnying at me for over an hour. Spanky is half on my chest, half on my arm with his face 2 inches (and that is being generous) away from my face just waiting for me to open my eyes so he can start licking me and wagging his tail.  I know he is there because I can feel him and I have opened my eyes just enough to look through my eyelashes and he has that "excited for the day" look on his face. Bless his little heart. In addition to those things, my nose has been running, specifically, the right nostril.  I have a Kleenex wedged up there hoping to stop the constant flow.  It seems to be working, but I don't know what will happen when I take it out.  I suspect flash flooding. Finally, I give up and get up. I shuffle downstairs in my flannel horsey pj's and my favorite tank top that says "Buy Me Diamonds" on it in glitter.  One side of my hair is stuck to my head, my eyes are just a wee bit swollen and don't get me started about my nose again.  I am a vision.  A vision of the run of the mill cold virus and bad styling.

I know things are not going to get better as I spy dog crap on the floor.  Those little SOBs were just outside two hours ago.  What could have possibly happened to cause this intestinal explosion.  This is uncalled for. I clean it up and decide that I might as well go outside and clean up the horse stalls as well.  No reason to get dressed, I live on a farm and who cares what I look like? Not the horses or dogs.

I shuffle outside and notice the dogs are tunneling out of the yard for some reason.  I found a couple of rocks and plugged the holes.  That's when I hear, "Hey, Good Morning!" from our perky neighbor.  My body starts hacking up some phlegm and I give him a froggy, "hey."  He gives me his condolences about my cold and I go along my merry way.  I'm cleaning the stalls, a little sweaty and hacking up a lung when I hear a motor running.  I walk out of the barn and there is the fire department. What. The. Hell???  Our local friendly fireman, named Curtis is checking addresses to make sure everyone is marked correctly.  As is my luck, our sign is not in a visible location.  As Curtis and I have a dialog about this, I am remembering, I haven't even brushed my teeth yet.  My tongue runs over the sweaters on my teeth.  I hoping Curtis has some sort of affliction where he can't smell, because with all of the certainty I possess, I am sure that I smell of death, day old pizza, horse crap and snot.  Like I said before, I am a vision. I tell Curtis to put the sign wherever he wants, whatever makes the fire department happy.  Curtis does so.  I go back to cleaning.  I have a sweaty forehead and am thinking about taking my sweatshirt off that I had over the Buy Me Diamonds tank top when Curtis appears again.  It's like he can't get enough of me.  Curtis  has more questions about the property and how everything is marked.  Finally satisfied, he leaves.

I would just like to say, to all the girls out there, one can never be too prepared.  You never know when the fire department is going to show up.  I'm not saying to lounge in your prom dress, but for crying out loud, get dressed before you go outside.  Shower, brush your teeth...even your hair.  I'm pretty sure Curtis has made some sort of note in his fireman's log that the woman at this address is yucky and should not be resuscitated.  I have no proof to back that up, just a theory at this point.

And, to God I say, "Good one.  Now, can you give it a rest already? "